population: 1

the cool thing about losing your sense of humanity and self in the middle of nowhere is that it greatly improves the creativity of your writing. the not so cool thing about it is the part where you're losing your sense of humanity and self in the middle of nowhere

why are skulls so fragile they're like eggshells its scaring me

im hallucinating beetles

18 now and currently experiencing the consequences of my actions wow this sucks

someday i will leave the house without multiple bleeding, raw patches of skin on my mouth. just not today.

has Sam Levinson actually met a lesbian before

crazy how the scientology building exists and we arent all poking around in there. like what is inside. why arent we all looking inside. i rly want to know whats inside.

explaining how thsd is such a well written, interesting story, and a incredibly well-done and heartwrenching metaphor for queerness and internalized self hatred as well as a great piece of genuinely terrifying cosmic horror that just delivers emotional blow after emotional blow and then they offhandedly ask how the original Hikaru died again and. um. ah. well you see-

y know I think those laugh circles they do in parks are great n all but what we rly need in this economy is a screaming circle. just a circle of ur average citizens gorilla gripping each others shoulders and screeching in anguish. just screaming their lungs out. also I don't think fistfighting should come with legal consequences

no friends, stuck in the middle of nowhere, trans, living in a christian, alt-right household, first crush in 8 years & its on my english teacher, diaspora kid, unmedicated, just lost all my savings, been disassociated for 4 years, but these chocolate chip cookies are rly good, so whatever

Yk when ur just going about your day and you're suddenly struck by sickening self awareness, mortification and disgust and your insides get all clammy and gross and you're suddenly hulking and swivel-eyed and parts of your body are distended where they should not be -potbelly, poke, poke poke!- and you are a balding, gelatinous pile of a man on a lawn chair who reeks of cigarettes and the rank offal that skin always carries, leering with yellow teeth and you're a washed up actress with lips like withered prunes wobbling jowls spitting at her grandchildren, swinging a broken bottle, ,,"who will fuck me now? " and you're made out of raw chicken and dripping in flabby skin, the grotesque creature who was first shunned from the garden, you can feel your veins stopped with clotted blood and you need to stand on a street corner and scrabble at and scrape off your genitals so you may be sexless and pure. the bleach white sheets of a hospital bed are slithering up and tangling around your ankles, and theres no use fighting, you were made to ripen and rot under the suffocation of maddening drone of beeping machines and every day you wake to their beeping in your ears and you know there is no use are you all right sir? Are you all right? You’re looking at your friend’s father and imagining him choking you until your slick, bulbous lips go blue and maybe your therapist wants to hurt you and that makes you smile. You are so young, appreciate your youth, look in the mirror and see how it sloughs away each passing day jealousy for the youth making you feel ironically, like a sniveling child once again, that same young boy who coveted the possessions of others with sinful jealousy. you must go lay in traffic or rip off your skin, or jump off a cliff because you cannot possibly exist like this. you cant you cant you cant, your esophagus, cunning bastard, is slithering into knots and the air is no longer hissing into your lungs and so you'll be free of this horror soon, just a moment please, death is perfection and perfection takes patience, we'll be with you shortly you ungrateful fuck and all the sudden you're fine and you're walking down the street like you were 5 minutes ago and oh hey I should probably do the laundry when I get home i'm running low on socks